


The Quiet And The Quieter

by susiephalange



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Fluff, Mentions of unwanted touching, heimdall is a savior, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7097914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a very dedicated science teacher who loves her job in entirety. Heimdall is a computer programmer who is good friends with her. It's all lovely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet And The Quieter

**Author's Note:**

> I hope my tagging hasn't scared you guys away...

Every day, you would wake very early to make sure you never left anything behind. You'd brush your teeth and eat your breakfast and pick out an outfit that followed the teacher dress code, and before seven o'clock appeared on the alarm clock beside the bed, you'd be out the door, your space-themed travel mug in hand and driving to work.

It was a small high school, with a student population of just over a thousand, yet it felt like your second home. Maybe it was because you were always there, rather than in your IKEA-themed flat-packed apartment. Midgard High School was run by the co-principles Odin Allfather, and Nicholas J. Fury, both powerful men who struck fear and inspiration into the hearts of the students. While they praised the physical prowess of their sport teams - the _Avengers_ , the football team, _Warriors Three,_ the lacrosse team, the archery champion, Clint Barton - there was the academic side that you held up with both hands upon your shoulders.

As the head of science and technologies, you juggled the best and worst; the students who came to blow up themselves in the back of the chem room, like Scott Lang (who really, would be much better suited if he applied himself to physics rather than test tubes), and the best and brightest, like Bruce Banner and Reed Richards, Helen Cho and the insepparble FitzSimmons. Your teams of the future's leading scientists were the reason you really got up in the morning and slaved to become their headteacher. No way would you let the others in your faculty take that place when all they wanted was the extra bonus for the position. 

"Oh my gosh, did I forget -," you whisper into your bag. Yes. You've forgotten your keys - how was it possible? First one here, and forgetting the way in to the building. 

Just as you took a deep breath, and contemplated going back to retrieve them, a small familiar car pulled up two spaces away; a small honey-yellow 1970 Pontiac Firebird that brought a smile to your face. Inside the coolest car ever, would be your only friend - Mr. Heimdall. He was a quiet man, just like you; he single-handedly managed the firewalls and computer systems of the school, which, from your experience with the trouble-making Loki, was hard. 

"Good morning," he nodded. "Forgot the key?"

You bob your head, "Yeah," you laugh, and locking your car, join him in step to the door. "I don't know what I would do without you, Mr. Heimdall." 

From his height, you caught a twinkle in his hazel eyes, "I don't know what you would do, either, Miss _______." From the pocket of his brown tweed jacket, he drew forth the key, "I suppose we're lucky to have each other."

 

 

 

Everyday, you'd spend lunch in the labs, making sure the previous class had cleaned up their messes (often not, for example, Tony Stark) and you'd mark your quizzes and the exams and draw the next classes' lessons up on the chalk board. Most other teachers weren't this dedicated to their job, unless they were Phil Coulson and his history class (you'd almost go back to high school just to sit through his animated enthusiasm about the second world war), but that's what you were. You were most possibly the nerdiest nerd the school had heard, and that went beyond the students in their Dr Who phases. But today, in your lunch break, instead of it just being you taking mouthfuls of food and darting around, too quick for the computer you wrote your lessons into to take in, you sat. 

And waited.

"Miss ________?"Mr. Heimdall knocked on the door, and entered. "I heard you had computer troubles?"

You nod, and stand back from the monitor. "I - it wouldn't turn on. And when it did it..." you reach forward and twiddle the volume up. As you do, a shrill, unpleasant noise is emitted, to which the pair of you wince. "That."

Mr Heimdall gives a small smile, one that melts your heart, and goes for the computer. "I can fix that."

Before long, his promise is kept. The screen is back to the screensaver; the previous year's winning team for the science fair, and the horrendous noise has been quelled. "Thank you ever so much!" you gush, and turning to him, - all too quickly, you embrace his side in a friendly hug. 

He stutters. "Just - doing my job, Miss _______."

At once, you withdraw.

It may have been years since you'd hugged anyone, and years further on since they'd  been hesitant to reciprocate, but you knew you had just broken a key and core rule of the school. No unwanted contact with one another.

"I apologise if -," the bell chose to cut in, and the sound of students stomping to class interrupted the apology, and at that moment you were very aware of the polka-dot stockings and your pinafore dress and your unkempt hair from a student's awry experiment and your uneaten lunch and a heat came to your cheeks. "Mr Heimdall -,"

He took a breath, and quietly, almost too, he whispered, "It's not your fault, Miss _______. I'll let you go on to teach."

 

 

 

Everyday, you were the last to leave in order to make sure everything was in order for the days and lessons and students to come. Often, leaving last meant the sun had set and the stars of the heavens bore their constellations for your astronomy-loving soul to gaze at through the windows of your room. It happened to be only five o'clock when you managed to tear yourself away from your home away from home, and with your coat on, folders ready to take home to pour over for overnight, you made your way to the car.

"Miss ________! I didn't think I'd have such luck," a familiar voice came from behind you. "I was going to e-mail you for a meeting for tomorrow, but since you're here -," 

Turning, you see none other than Alexander Pierce, the vice-principle of the school. The stocky man was always vying for something, and when it wasn't PTA votes to stay in power, it was...other things. More unpleasant things. 

"-so what do you say? Five minute chat about the national league now, or time out of your release later in the week?" Mr Peirce's eyes sparkled, but not in a nice way. In a way in which they gleamed as if dripping with blue sludge, dirty stuff. Nasty stuff.

"I - er," your arms tighten around the box of folders. The paper wouldn't shield you. Nothing could shield you from his weasel ways. "I have to go, sir."

The blonde chuckled. "Nobody's waiting for you?" you hesitated, and he grinned. Like a shark. "Ah, yes. You don't have to worry, not like last time. I'll be -,"

"Excuse me, but Miss _______ said she had to go, Mr Pierce," a hand landed on your shoulder. At the touch of another, you flinched back into the touch, into a familiar form. _Mr Heimdall_. "If you would excuse us, I will escort her out. Good night, Mr Peirce."

 

 

 

Not everyday, you held hands with a man twice your height and just as quiet as you were. Maybe it would be because you'd never had a reason to call for help like a damsel in distress, or even an understanding of what distress truly was.

"Why didn't you fight back?" his words bled into your numbness. At this, you finally felt the night air, and shivered. "I've seen you teach, ______. You have this...passion! A fire inside you. He was going to -,"

"He's done it before," you whisper. 

Mr Heimdall is silent.

"I've never told anyone, not even the police, and nobody will ever believe me," you add quickly. "It was a last year, before winter break. He called me into his office...it was lunch time..."

Heimdall watches with silent, sad eyes. "Why didn't you tell? You know what he would have done?"

You nod.

The night breeze blows again, and before you can protest, Mr Heimdall sheds his tweed jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. "________. It's okay to speak up." His hand releases yours, at once you feel how empty it is without it. "And about that hug, the one you gave me earlier..." 

You wait, almost wondering if Mr Heimdall is going to lecture you on the conduct - but it doesn't come.

"Would it be okay if I hugged you now? I need to make sure you're safe."

 

 

 

Not everyday you managed to make the life of yours turn quite so upside down. But also, maybe, that's what it took to report Mr. Pierce and move out of your flatpack home and into the cosy apartment downtown with Mr Hiemdall. That's what it took to wake up from a dream that you had no idea had been a nightmare of sorts.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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